


the visitor

by distractionpie



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Begging, Blow Job, Dirty Talk, Hand Job, Hypothetical sex acts, M/M, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Under-negotiated Kink, but the plot is just set dressing really, mild edging, shamless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: David Webster is a post-grad working for the university who is assigned as a temporary aide to the guest lecturer his department is bringing in. Joseph Liebgott may have gotten lucky in making the scientific find of the decade, but Webster isn't ready to be impressed just yet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I stared this in November and it was originally supposed to be a longer fic that focused on relationship building, but in the end I just couldn't get the plot working. The smut however practically wrote itself so it seemed a shame to let it languish in my unfinished folder and I’ve reworked it with snippet from the original plotty part as a shorter beginning that should be enough to let it stand on its own as smutfic.

David had been resentful when he'd first been assigned to assist the university's newest guest lecturer.  There'd been no reason for them to have stuck him with this task, no sense in when there are other people in the department who are certainly better suited, but they'd done it and the given justification was that he wasn't teaching any classes that semester and so surely could spare two weeks for their unusual guest, as if they didn't all know how poorly his research was going.

He'd been angrier still when he'd first seen the guy, wandering into the department meet with a sneer on his face and verging on inappropriately casually dressed in jeans and a leather jacket; and worst of all empty handed, not a notebook or a folder in sight. Their guest was no academic, didn’t even try to fit in, and David had found himself clenching his fists in frustration as the department head fawned over how Mr. Liebgott had made the discovery of the century while working his day job on one of those godawful sightseeing boats and how he'd be lecturing on what he'd found and also the importance of applying learning outside the classroom. And David, who'd studied for years, devoted all his waking hours to his work, had nothing but a floundering thesis and an apparent demotion to coffee boy. 

It hadn't been the best start to a working relationship. 

Liebgott’s lectures were a disaster. Shoddily planned and even more sloppily presented – students hadn’t even tried to hide their disinterest, and Liebgott’s obvious distaste for his job had only lead to a feedback loop of bad attitude that wasted everybody’s time. 

After three days, David’s mean spirited satisfaction at the man’s failure to live up to the job he’d been given had turned to frustration, and he snapped, demanding Liebgott explain why even agree to lecture, when he so clearly didn’t have the first ounce of respect for the duties and responsibilities of academic work? 

He’d expected Liebgott to dismiss him, as he’d already formed a habit of doing. Instead, his answer had cut David to the core. 

A niece, he'd told David, who'd be the first in their family to go to college, who had her heart set upon this particular college, and Liebgott knew the power of connections. He was speaking not because he wanted to show off his discovery, or to indulge his scorn of academic and make a mockery of their work, but because he wanted her to have every advantage she could and if that meant letting himself be paraded in front of a bunch of college students who clearly thought he was an idiot who got lucky then that's what he was willing do.    

He'd left then, stormed out with a scowl and as David made his way back to his own apartment it sunk in how ignorant he's been. It was stupid and unfair of the university to ask Liebgott to give college lectures when he's never been to one and didn't know how they were supposed to go, let alone how to give one well.  They'd told David to help him out, but that was after the planning stages, after the presentations were already written and the department head had hardly been explicit in their instructions to either of them. They'd been set up to fail. 

 *

Now as David watches Joe strut across the stage to give his final lecture of the day, with a demeanour that's more rockstar than academic but the students are eating it up, he's glad they had the fight early enough that there was time left to salvage the situation and not come to the stupid end they'd been on track for. 

 *

The shift from Joe visibly resenting every moment stood in front of the students to his present confidence hadn’t been a miracle transformation but as Webster had sat at home the night after Joe's revelations he'd thought about the sloppy presentation Joe gave, and the good ideas hidden within it. Writing a lecture from scratch in one night would have been madness verging on the impossible, but rewriting from a solid foundation... well, David had been in academia all his life and he knew what to do. 

It had been seven am by the time he'd finished and he'd been right on the verge of caffeine shakes but he was a postgrad and he'd become good at all-nighters after the double course load he had as a undergrad in order to catch up and graduate on time after changing his major from literature to marine studies, and he knew how to function without rest.

It had, in hindsight, been naïve to think that Joe would welcome David's changed with open arms. In fact, he'd taken them as an insult. They'd argued around in circles for the best part of twenty minutes, as David tried to explain that it was his job to provide that sort of help and Liebgott insisted he didn't want the help, until finally David’s frustration had gotten the better of him again and he’d snapped that at Liebgott ought to at least try with the new slides, since he’d clearly hadn't enjoyed working with the old ones and Webster’s could hardly be any worse.  

It turned out that an appeal to cynicism had suited Liebgott far better than any sort of polite persuasion.

David hadn't been expecting miracles when he'd slipped into the front row to watch the presentation from among the students and Joe had got off to a shaky start, but after three days of failure he finally seemed to have found his stride, talking like he actually gave a damn about what he was saying and David knew he wasn't the only audience member who was picking up on the new energy. When he glanced along his row he could even see people taking notes. For once the two-hour period had seemed to fly by.

As the students filed out David had made his way over to where Liebgott is standing and looking overwhelmed and grasped his arm. "I knew you could do it."

Liebgott's answering grin had been like a punch to the stomach. He'd known before that Lieb was decent looking, if sharp features and leather jackets were what a person was into, but when he smiled...

David, who hadn't had a silly fluttery crush in years and had assumed he'd outgrown them, found himself suddenly stricken.

Joe had ridden the wave of his own success, oozing confidence in a way that none of his audience could resist. He’d even managed to get a few students laughing at his jokes. He’d complained after that he’d been disappointed the only a small fraction of students had enjoyed his humour, until David had pointed out that laughing at a professor's jokes was usually considered the height of uncool, so for any students to lapse enough to let their reactions show was a sign that his jokes at been well received. He didn’t mention that he was pretty sure at least two of the laughing students had been checking Lieb out, they probably thought they were being subtle but David knew what undergraduates were like. 

On Friday night Lieb had insisted on going out for drinks to celebrate surviving his first week of lecturing and on Saturday morning, laying in the tangled mess they'd made of David's sheets, David had impulsively told Lieb to save his money and cancel the second week of his hotel booking.

The late nights hadn’t effected Joe’s lecturing negatively. Indeed, if he’d found his stride during the first week in the second he was in his element. Instead of his discomfort he’d just gone along with it when one of the students had absentmindedly called him professor, leading David to tease him about wanting a career change. He suspects in those first few days Joe would have bristled at hearing David ask, “So do you like educating all these young minds, Professor Liebgott?” but having settled Joe had just laughed and ran a finger up David’s tie and said, “Depends. Would I have to wear one of these?”

*

Joe has the students’ rapt attention as he concludes the last of the lectures the university has contracted him for. David is in what has become his usual seat in the front row and he’s been impressed by how well it’s gone but even he’s surprised when several students clap when Joe clicks to the end of his slideshow, the applause spreading through the rows of seats before the students start packing up to file out.

 A few of them hang back, claiming to have questions, but David hurries them along. He knows how impressionable undergrads can be and he's not trying to limit their education, he's just trying to protect Joe from the embarrassment of having to deal with teenagers flirting really badly and unsubtly.

"I wouldn’t have minded answering their questions,” Joe says, once David is done prodding the last of the out of the door, locking it so that none of them will try and drop back in while they’re cleaning up.

David raises his eyebrows. "Do you really want to be hit on by teenage freshmen?"

Joe snorts. "What, are you jealous Web?"

David sighs. "You're lucky this is your last class, or next time I'd leave you to deal with them flinging themselves at you."

"Oh, come off it." Joe rolls his eyes. "Students hitting on their teachers only happens in soap operas and porn."

The innocence is almost charming. "Joe, I've been in academia nearly ten years. Trust me, it happens. Especially when the people doing the teaching look like you."

Joe blinks. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. No-one with any integrity would act on it, of course, but sometimes students aren't subtle," he explains, “And for some people the whole professor thing is appealing, or even just a T.A – I mean it’s in so much fiction for a reason.”

“I guess. I mean…” Joe's expression shifts into something curious. "Shit... Looking like that I bet you're getting hit on by students all the time, aren't you?"

"Fortunately no," David says, "I don't have a lot of direct contact with students, I do more research and marking than I do teaching. Most of what I know about was from back when I was an undergrad."

Joe's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh, I see how it is. You know students get crushes on their teachers because you did." He's smirking in a way that makes David wonder exactly what he's imagining. He suspects it’s somewhat more exciting than any of the realities of his undergrad years.

"I could've just been talking about seeing people doing that," he points out, because there are plenty of possible explanations that don't involve him having been fresh out of high school and newly come to terms with his sexuality and developing what was in hindsight a terribly cliché infatuation with the professor of his gothic literature class. He’s not _really_ ashamed of it though – half the class were in the exact same position and painfully obvious about it. The man had been quite devastatingly attractive even before you added on the appeals of a sharp mind, a firm commanding voice, and a worldly air as he dropped regular references to years of glamourous travel and a life of excitement that his students could only dream about.

Joe, however, seems to have latched onto David's slip. "Damn, I can just picture it," he says, discarding his things in favour of approaching David. "You as an undergrad all wide-eyed and admiring, trying to work out how to get your professor to take you to bed and give you a _real_ education."

David can feel his cheeks heating as he says, "Even if there was a crush, I'd never have thought of actually doing anything."

Joe laughs, hands wrapping around David's waist. "C'mon Webster, I've seen the way you're always sucking on pens when you're thinking, you really think you can convince me that you didn't used to sit in class with your pretty lips wrapped around your pen fantasizing about your teachers?"

David bites his lip. He’d never been quite as shameless as Joe is suggesting, but he had been young and foolish.

 "You think those students wanted me like you wanted your professors," Joe remarks, tugging Webster's shirt free of his slacks. "But would you?"

“Would I what?” David says, though he suspects he knows as Lieb slides his fingers over David’s back, dipping below his hem and sending a shiver up his spine

"Would you have wanted me, if you were a student in this class, or if I'd been teaching one of your classes back then?” Lieb says, backing David up until he's pinned between Lieb and the lectern. "Would you have come to me if I was your professor? Batting those pretty blue eyes and begging to suck my cock?"   

And David has never been good at these sorts of games, tends to overthink them and end up stuttering and self-conscious, feeling silly about playing pretend, but with Liebgott staring him down and the memory of the lecture fresh in his mind, it doesn't take much pretending at all to convince himself to see Lieb as one of those professors Webster had found himself crushing on in his younger years. Truthfully, when Lieb looks at him like he is doing, eyes too intense and aura like he can see right through all of David’s bravado David doesn't feel all that far from being a blushing undergrad. He licks his lips and Joe grins triumphantly.  

"I think you would,” he concludes, “I think when you messed up a quiz you'd come to my office and you'd plead for the chance to convince me to let you make it up."  

Webster tries to picture it. Joe sat behind a desk; or more likely with his feet up on top of the desk, leaning insouciantly in his chair, listening to David's petition with an idle smirk. "I... uh..." And Webster counts himself lucky here, that he can cover his own uncertainty as being part of the role as he fights the urge to wring his hands like he really is a frantic student with a failing grade. "I really would do _anything_ for a chance to make up my grade. To make it up to _you_ professor..." he stutters out.  

Lieb grins. "And do you know what I'd say?" His lips brush against Webster's ear, sending a shiver down his spine as Liebgott whispers, "I'd say no."

He kisses across Webster's jaw to his mouth, all light touches and innocent sweetness, but when he reaches Webster's lips he bites a little before pulling back. "You know you're pretty, don't you Webster? You know that people will give you whatever you want when you flirt, because you look so beautiful. But you're clever too. Sneaky." He reaches down, palming Webster's cock through his trousers. "You play so innocent but you've been using those looks of yours to get what you want. Well, not this time. You say you're sorry and you want to make it up, but I - know - you're - lying." He punctuates each word of his final phrase with a firm stroke of David's cock, and fuck, but Webster is straining against his zipper already.

"I... lying?" David says helplessly, too focused on fighting the urge to rock his hips against the teasing pressure of Joe's hand to even theorize at where Joe is taking this game.  

 "You don't really expect me to believe the material was too hard for you?" Joe says, one hand opening Webster's trousers while the other curls around his hip. He hesitates, but the doors are locked and David's been working on this campus long enough to know that the cameras in this building haven't worked in years and the place gets cleaned only on weekends so there's no chance of them being disturbed. He lays his hands over Lieb's, squeezing encouragingly, and helps him tug the pants down his thighs.  

David is sure he must paint an undignified and ridiculous picture, leaning back against the lectern with his vest rumpled and his trousers and boxers pushed down, bare from hips to knees and pale except for the flush of his hard cock now brushing up against his untucked shirt tails, but then Lieb's hand is back on him and David finds that he's more concerned with trying to keep from thrusting into Joe's grip like an overeager teenager to worry about decorum.  

"I know you, Webster. I know you're too smart to really fail," Lieb drawls and the words aren't anything David hasn't heard before, but coming from Joe, who isn't impressed by his vocabulary, or his flattering references from prestigious internships, or the expensive schools on his resume, who cuts through all the pretence and is judging Webster only by what he's seen and heard, they mean so much more and David squirms at the praise.  

"That's right, you're my best fucking student-" and David can't help the burst of laughter that escapes him at those words. "Shut up, that wasn't a pun," Joe scolds, though he's grinning as he swats at the side of David's thigh. It's a playful hit, barely stinging, but David can't help the noise that escapes him, a high whimper as his hips jerk and cock twitches in Lieb's grip, his reaction giving away far more than he means to and Joe looks him up and down with a speculative leer, before saying, "Tell me the truth Web, were you just being lazy? Did you fail the quiz because you were too busy to study – out drinking, or partying, or with some frat boy?"  

David can't help pulling a face. "No," he says firmly, perhaps not wholly in the spirit of whatever game Lieb has in mind, but all of those suggestions are just utterly contrary to how he'd approached his college years, the latter in particular.  

It makes Lieb laugh. "No? So did you get those questions wrong on purpose?" The amusement fades out of his tone, voice turning husky, "Were you looking for an excuse to come into my office? Just trying to get my attention?"

It's hard to think clearly enough to formulate an answer with Lieb’s his dark eyes raking over David’s body and reminding him of how exposed and vulnerable he is, pinned to the lectern with his cock rock hard in Joe’s rough hand while Joe is still dressed and the picture of control. Lieb doesn't wait for an answer though. He slides his free hand around to squeeze Webster's ass and says, "Because you should have known you had it already, how could I not be paying attention to you when you're always so good, so eager, and looking like that. The rest of the class, they race to get to the back of the room, to get their laptops out so they can surf Facebook and kid themselves I don't know, but not you Webster. You're always sitting in the very front row with your legs spread and you've got that pen sliding between your lips, eyes always on me. But now you have my attention for the wrong reasons. You’re a model student Webster, but failing a quiz on purpose, that needs to be punished," and David honestly couldn't say if it's the twist of Joe's wrist or the heat of his words that makes David shameless enough to moan.

“That’s right. I'd make you touch yourself for me," he says as he strokes Webster's cock firmly. "And make you tell me how you thought about me, how a good student like you was willing to be so bad to get my attention.”

"I... I'm never reading the slides in your lectures," David says truthfully, "I can't focus on them, can’t focus on anything but you when you're standing up there. You – when you turn around to point to things on the screen I'm... your ass looks so good in those jeans.”

Joe grins. “What else?”

“Your hands…” fuck, Joe’s hands, his eyes fall shut as he focuses on the feel of them… “When you're my last class I go home and I think about your hands. Think about what those hands could do to me.”

"Tell me how you like it Webster," he says. “Tell me how you think I’d touch you.”

"Tighter... faster..." David gasps, but in response Joe loosens his grip, slowing his strokes to a languid teasing drag. 

"W-what...?” his eyes snap open and he’s sure betrayal is writ clear across his face. “I…”

"You're being punished remember," Joe says, unfairly smug.

"Joe, please..."  he whines but Joe just shakes his head and tuts.

"C'mon Webster, you'd really call your professor by their first name? You'll never get your grades up without showing some respect."

"P-professor Liebgott, sir," and even half mad with arousal Webster makes a note of the way that Joe's breath hitches at the word 'sir', the slight tightening of his grip that hint at a slip in his control. "Please professor, I... I'll do whatever you want, just let me... let me…” he bucks his hips, fucking into Joe's hand.

"That's it. I want to keep you just like this, until you forget all about your grade and you are just begging for me to touch you, to let you come for me,” he says, “Let me hear you beg.”

“I- I want you,” David stammers. “I need you… need you to touch me. Anything… just touch me, let me feel you, please.”

“Yeah, like that,” Joe groans. “And then I'd bend you over my desk, tell you to spread your legs and hold still while I get my hands on your tight little ass. Would you behave for me then or would I have to punish you some more?"

"I... I..." and god, Web wants the satisfaction but he's not ready for this game to end either, too drawn into the scene Joe is painting with his words. "Please sir... I..."  

"I think you'd want to be good for me, poor Webster, you'd really be trying, but you'll be too desperate and dripping," and Joe swipes his thumb over the leaking tip of Webster's cock to illustrate his point, "Squirming about with that perfect ass in the air, making a mess trying to rub off on the desk. On _my_ desk. So I'd have to spank you."

David moans and he feels like the sound has been punched out of him, no air left in his lungs as imagines the pleasure-pain sting of it. Joe has slim hands but they’re calloused from working and he can feel the strength in his grip, has seen the whipcord muscle in Joe’s arms, and it’s easy to imagine Joe pinning him against the desk and taking him apart.

Joe leans in, expression softening for a moment as he brushes a quick kiss over David’s lips before the fierce look is back. "One spank for every question you got wrong, Webster, does that sound fair?"  

There’s a small part of David’s brain the wonders vaguely about how Joe has graded his imaginary quiz, but he dismisses it as irrelevant – he wants as much as Joe is willing to give him. "Y-yes...”

Joe shakes his head disapprovingly. "C'mon Web, you're a quicker learner than this. Respect, remember?"  

"Yes, Professor Liebgott,” he corrects, "Please- please spank me professor.” And finally Joe tightens his grip, one hand squeezing David's ass in a bruising grip as the other speeds up around his cock, giving David what he's been waiting for, jerking him off hard and fast like he needs.

"You're so perfect Webster. You'd take it so nicely, wanna wreck you,” Joe babbles, "Wanna see you fidgeting in the front row on Monday and we'll both know you're still feeling this." David lets his eyes slip shut, his thighs shaking with pleasure as he fights to keep standing.

“Such a good boy, you come in looking all neat and pretty in your suits just to let me mess you up,” Joe says, “I can feel how close you are, show me.” He presses close against David. “You’re gonna come for me Web,” he says; a firm, even demand - as if he’s totally sure that David will give him what he wants, and David does, jerking in the small space between Joe and the podium and flinging one arm up to grab at Joe’s shoulder and ground himself as orgasm overwhelms him.

“That’s it,” Joe murmurs, gently stroking him through it until the feeling is almost too much and he’s whimpering under Joe’s ministrations. “Good boy. And once your gorgeous ass was all pink with my handprints and you've faced your punishment, would you still want me to change your grade?"  

David bites his lip, mulling over the question and the desperate edge that has slipped into Joe's voice, and he’s struck with the urge to improvise.  "I never... it was never about the grade professor," he admits shyly, opening his eyes. With his gaze downcast he can see the outline of Joe's cock through his jeans, the thick denim providing more compression that Webster's slacks but not enough to hide the effect their encounter has had on Joe. He licks his lips.  

"You were right, I failed the test on purpose," David confesses, looking up to lock eyes with Joe. "I just wanted an excuse to make it up. I wanted to suck your cock, sir. I still do."  

The way Joe’s jaw slackens is reward in itself, but he wants more now and he drops to the floor, knees thudding against the platform, breathless as he begs, "Please professor," with his mouth an inch from the bulge of Joe’s crotch.

The sound Joe makes is obscene and David takes it as permission to unzip Joe's fly, fumbling to get his jeans – suddenly _too_ tight – out of the way, the tip of Joe's cock slapping wetly against his cheek as he tugs Joe's underwear down.  

He turns his head to mouth at the length then keeps his eyes locked on Joe’s as he sucks the tip into his mouth, immediately tasting a tangy flood of precome that suggests that Joe is already close to the edge.

“Clever boy,” Joe pants, fingers knotting in David’s hair and anchoring him. “God, you’re too good.”

David bobs his head, slowly taking Joe deeper but Joe’s hands tighten, holding him in place. "Fuck, Web, I'm not gonna...” he chokes, but it’s too late or he’s too close because he’s coming, hot and thick into David’s mouth, and in his surprise David struggles a little to swallow it down, letting Joe’s cock slip from his mouth so that the last few spurts spill across his lips and jaw.

Joe drags one hand from David’s hair down to cup his face, tipping David’s head up as Joe regards him for a long moment with something close to awe before he lets go, sliding down to join him on the floor.

“Fuck.”

“I’m never gonna be able to teach in here again,” David mutters, and Joe bursts out in borderline hysterical laughter.

“This is your fault,” he complains. “I never even once thought about the whole professor kink thing before you came along with and started calling me it, and sitting in the front row making eyes at me.”

“Making eyes at you?” David splutters. “You started this.”  

"Don't bullshit me like you didn't know exactly what you were doing," Joe says, "Fucking talking about students being into me and doing that thing with your mouth."  

David blinks. "What thing?"  

"That face you make,” Joe says, with a wave of his hand. “Like you're in a fucking porno or something and you're about to come, but also about to suck a dick."

David shakes his head incredulously. "I don't... I don’t make a face like that.” He’s not even entirely sure what such a look would resemble.

“Yes you do.” Joe stares at him. “Fuck, you're making it right now."

David pauses, taking stock of himself and trying to work out if there’s something strange in his expression, but… "This is just my regular face."  

"Jesus christ..." Joe says, head rolling back. “Jesus fucking christ.”


End file.
